


Luck and Chance

by swampslip



Category: Red Dead Redemption (Video Games)
Genre: Accidental Stimulation, Angst, Animal Death, Coming In Pants, Cuddling & Snuggling, First Time, Getting Together, Grinding, Hand Jobs, Internalized Homophobia, Kissing, M/M, Mutual Pining, Pre-Canon, Virgin Charles, and then purposeful stimulation, au charles joined... 7? ish? years earlier, uMMMmm
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-04
Updated: 2020-12-04
Packaged: 2021-03-09 18:29:11
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,144
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27890791
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/swampslip/pseuds/swampslip
Summary: “You didn’t really… Y’kinda skirted that question,” Arthur says slowly, “Which is fine… If you don’t want to answer, just tell me to piss off…”Charles shifts, head tilting like he’s silently weighing his options.“You tell most people to, really… Not sure why I'm different," Arthur says slowly."Oh," Charles murmurs."... Am I right in thinkin' that there's a reason for that?""... Yes.""See, now you've gone all short with me," Arthur jokes gently."I don't know why it matters."
Relationships: Arthur Morgan/Charles Smith
Comments: 7
Kudos: 101





	Luck and Chance

**Author's Note:**

> i think charles is somewhere between john and Arthur in age so for context here he's 24 and Arthur's 29????????? yeah math is not my strong suit lmao he's been in the gang for a couple months at most

Charles has been with him all week, every day, working on fixing this same _stupid_ wagon. 

The fella’s new to them, new to the gang, new to Dutch’s brand of criminal. 

Arthur’s not sure why he can’t stop watching the younger man, getting distracted, getting flustered when Charles sends a smile his way or snorts in amusement at something Arthur says. 

And he’s doubly not sure why Charles is only like this with _him_. 

Why Charles is more willing to talk with him, eat with him, work with him, hunt with him. 

He has… A suspicion.

Or maybe it’s a stupid, evil little hope in his rotten old heart just seeding itself to rot later on like everything else in his garden of trying. 

They’re alone, in camp, the others in town or on errands, only Javier somewhere in woods, holding watch.

There might not be a better time to ask, and suddenly he _needs_ to know, he needs that hatchet to fall-

Whether it splits him, or spares him...

“Hey, Charles,” Arthur says slowly, and he’s already full to the brim of his hat with regret and fear. 

“Mister Morgan,” Charles says, a bit dry, a bit suspicious of being addressed so directly and Arthur flusters. 

“I told- Call me Arthur, please,” Arthur mutters and sighs and straightens up, sees Charles straighten up as well, spine settling into a tall, strong line. 

Defensive, prepared for something horrible. 

“... You ain’t in trouble with me,” Arthur says carefully, “Or anyone. I ain’t gon’ hurt you.”

Charles’ eyes narrow at him for a moment and Arthur’s seen the scars that litter Charles’ skin, knows the brutality of the world they’ve been born into. 

“Actually,” Arthur says nervously, trying to reassure the younger man at the expense of himself, “Might be the other way around.”

“... What?” Charles asks and his voice is soft and scratchy and Arthur feels foolish. 

“I… Well, if I ask you somethin’, and you don’t like bein’ asked that somethin’, all I’m gonna suggest is that you don’t be loud about it, ‘less you wanna leave after. Most folks ‘round here are fine with it- But- So, if you ain’t just…” Arthur grimaces and sets down the mallet to rub the sweat dripping down the side of his face, “Tell me off, but just me, alright?”

Charles’ brows are firmly furrowed, dark eyes watching him intensely, like Charles can’t decide who’s predator and who’s prey here-

Arthur doesn’t know either. 

“You… You into fellas?” Arthur asks carefully, quiet enough that Javier would never hear him. 

He watches Charles’ eyes widen, expression smoothing in surprise. 

But Charles doesn’t answer, immediately, and Arthur can feel sweat dripping down the small of his back. 

“If- Either way, y’know, s’fine?” Arthur manages nervously, shifting back a half-step, keeping an eye on Charles. 

“Why?”

“What?”

“Why are you asking?” Charles’ voice is low and careful, perfectly controlled, “If it doesn’t matter.”

“I- Maybe- I’m real curious ‘bout you, Charles, can you blame me?” Arthur laughs weakly and rubs at his neck, “Hardly know you.”

“I’ve never been with a man,” Charles says slowly.

Arthur’s gut twists, because that’s not what he asked. 

“I see.”

“I…” Charles trails off, almost shy, turning to look at the wagon’s board he was nailing into place, “I’ve never been with anyone.”

“Really?” Arthur asks a bit loudly, genuine surprise outweighing common sense for a moment there and he blinks, shrinks in on himself, “I- Uh, you’re not… Not exactly hard on the eyes.”

“Thank you...” Charles huffs softly and he looks down at his work, then sideways at Arthur, “Have you?”

“What?”

“Been with a man?”

Arthur stares, for a moment, breathes in deeply-

Nods. 

“I see,” Charles echoes him quietly. 

“You didn’t really… Y’kinda skirted that question,” Arthur says slowly, “Which is fine… If you don’t want to answer, just tell me to piss off…”

Charles shifts, head tilting like he’s silently weighing his options. 

“You tell most people to, really… Not sure why I'm different," Arthur says slowly. 

"Oh," Charles murmurs.

"... Am I right in thinkin' that there's a reason for that?"

"... Yes."

"See, now you've gone all short with me," Arthur jokes gently. 

"I don't know why it matters."

Arthur blinks at the younger man and watches as Charles gets to leveling another board. 

Just… 

Moving on.

"I won't bother you," Charles mutters. 

"... Bother me?"

"I'm… Less concerned with you knowing," Charles admits under his breath, then looks in the direction of where they both know Javier is, "But I'm not a fool." 

"I told you most-"

"Most," Charles says pointedly and Arthur falters, " _Most_ , and I'm lucky to be here in the first place."

"Charles-" Arthur says when his chest aches too pointedly. 

"Don't mistake my admission as an advance, Mister Morgan," Charles says lowly then pauses, frowns down at his hands, "Please."

"I… I won't," Arthur says gently and he can feel fear coming from Charles, it's surprising. 

Charles is stronger than him, easily, stronger and smarter than most men Arthur's known. 

But he supposes this isn't exactly a beast to be battled with brute force. 

"Sorry," Arthur says wryly, "Shoulda shut up about it, I think."

"Then do that," Charles says quickly, looking up over Arthur's shoulder as they hear some of the gang returning. 

Meeting Arthur's eyes, his own fathomless with their depth, their uncertainty. 

"Do that," Charles says again pointedly, slowly returns to his task and Arthur's left speechless. 

\--

He's alone again with Charles, down by the creek and he wonders if he should leave. 

Charles is waded into the water, just below his belly button, his hair pulled back and up in a small knot at the base of his skull. 

He looks up at Arthur who's hesitating on the bank. 

"Hey," Charles says. 

"Didn't realize you were down here," Arthur says and gestures at himself loosely, "Need a bath, myself, went and slipped in the mud when one of the horses pushed past me."

"... Are you asking me permission?" Charles asks incredulously, "To bathe?"

"... I don't wanna make you uncomfortable." 

"I don't own the river."

"Charles," Arthur sighs and rubs at his face roughly, "Look-" 

"I don't care," Charles says carefully, "... I don't mind." 

"Thank you," Arthur mutters and starts to strip, toeing out if his boots and pulling off his soiled clothes down to his drawers.

"Don't _thank_ me," Charles huffs and he tosses a bar of soap at Arthur who barely catches it. 

"Charles-”

“I mean it, Arthur,” Charles says firmly, “Don’t.”

“Alright,” Arthur says and raises his hands in defeat before dropping down onto the edge of the bank and slipping in. 

The water’s sun-warmed and not at all unpleasant in the early-evening mugginess of late summer. 

“S’nice,” Arthur says to fill the silence, gesturing at the water as it runs past them. 

Charles glances at him then moves a bit to one side, sitting on a boulder that’s half-submerged, pulling his legs up, looking up past Arthur to the way they came. 

“Uh… Were you done?” 

“Bathing? Yes,” Charles says softly, “Enjoying the night? No, I’m not.”

“Oh,” Arthur says hoarsely and averts his gaze down to his arm as he starts to flake the mud off his skin. 

“You really got yourself filthy,” Charles murmurs and Arthur huffs. 

“That damned horse of Dutch’s,” Arthur mutters darkly, “Swear he’d kill me if he was smart ‘nough.”

“I don’t think the horse wants to kill you.”

“Yeah, well… Nothin’ like Taima,” Arthur looks up and gestures with emphasis, “Now _she_ , she’s a lovely horse.”

“Thank you.”

“She’s real sweet, loves bein’ loved on,” Arthur glances at Charles’ face, tilting his head to the side and letting his voice go teasing, “Unlike her rider.”

Charles doesn’t answer and Arthur has half-a-moment of fearing that he’s offended the younger man then Charles’ eyes drop and the younger man’s expression reads as shy, lips just barely pressed together, fingers fidgeting on his ankles. 

Arthur sucks on his teeth to stop himself from smiling and soaps up his rag, brows furrowing in confusion, bringing the bar to his nose. 

Sniffing. 

“This why you always smell like a bakery?”

“Maybe.”

“Hm… Holdin’ out on us, Charles,” Arthur murmurs insincerely then smells the soap again, “Man… Now, I’m gonna smell sweet.”

“It smells good.”

“I ain’t arguin’.”

“... Alright,” Charles says quietly and Arthur grins at him. 

“There’s an implication there, Charles.”

“I know.”

“Just sayin’.”

Charles huffs roughly and looks away, setting his chin in his palm and watching the treeline. 

\--

“Shit,” Arthur mutters and looks around for his horse but he’s not in sight. 

He adjusts the sack over his shoulder. 

“Hey!” 

Arthur looks up just as Taima skids to a stop in front of him and there’s a hand in his face and he grabs it, swinging up behind Charles without a second thought. 

Charles urges his horse quickly as shots start firing behind them and Arthur grabs his hip. 

“Dutch sent me back for you, your horse was… I’m sorry,” Charles says as they finally start to slow, deep in a forest West of town.

“Dammit,” Arthur mutters and shifts the sack, turning to settle it behind him, “Thanks.”

“No problem,” Charles says slowly, “We’re supposed to split up for a bit… Guess you’re with me.”

“I’m fine with that,” Arthur says quietly and drops his head forward, feeling Charles go tense under his hand when Arthur’s hair brushes the younger’s nape, “Well, that went to hell real fast.”

“No one is injured, from what I heard… Besides your horse.”

“Where is he?”

“He… Fell.”

“Ugh,” Arthur sighs and lets his head fall the last two inches until his forehead is against the back of Charles’ shoulder, “Shit.”

“We can go back if you-”

“No… Not now, at least,” Arthur says quietly and picks up his head, fingers flexing on Charles’ hip, “Sorry.”

“I… It’s fine.”

\--

“I’d be fine on my own, if it’s an-”

“Here, Charles, share with me,” Arthur says and hooks his finger under a loop in Charles’ shirt then letting go, nodding towards the spot he claimed, “Solve us a couple problems.”

“I don’t-”

“Charles,” Arthur says quietly, “C’mon.”

“... Fine,” Charles says quietly and turns away from Hosea, following Arthur. 

“This is a ploy, of course, I really just need help settin’ up my tent.”

“You know I don’t believe that.”

“Oh, I know, but I’d figure it’d get into that lil’ pityin’ heart of yours,” Arthur makes a dramatically pathetic pair of puppy dog eyes as he turns and picks up the main post. 

It doesn’t work with his features at all and Charles drags his teeth over his lower lip to stop himself from smiling. 

\--  
  
“This is possibly the most competently put-together tent I’ve slept in,” Arthur hums as he brings their bedrolls into the tent, “To no skill of my own.”

“Thank you,” Charles says quietly. 

“No, _no_ ,” Arthur mutters and puts their bedrolls down, nudging Charles’ towards the younger man, “Don’t mention it.”

“Williamson…”

“Bill’s…”

“An ass.”

Arthur snorts softly but nods. 

“How close you alright with these bein’?”

“Oh… Not this again,” Charles sighs and sits up on his knees, “Look-”

“I ain’t meant it like- Look, Charles, it’s cooler up here, I’m offerin’ somethin’, not _that_ somethin’.”

“... I don’t mind.”

“If I… If I make you uncomfortable, you can tell me, you know that, right?”

“I know.”

“‘Course you don’t seem like the type to… Let anyone push you ‘round,” Arthur says quietly, “But I’d feel awful if I found out you…”

“I said I don’t mind,” Charles says slowly, “I mean that.”

“Yeah,” Arthur hums and pulls Charles’ bedroll back to himself, unrolling it alongside his own then crouching at the feet of them, “You’re bein’ quiet again.”

“I think you’re just talking enough for the both of us.”

Arthur huffs and rubs at the side of his neck in embarrassment.

“Yeah, maybe.”

“I’m also… Tired.”

“Oh, yeah, sure,” Arthur says and drops his hands between his ankles, “Uh…”

Charles shakes his head silently and moves to his bags, undoing his belts and tugging his shirt off over his head. 

And Arthur drops his eyes to his lap, moves to do the same, until they’re both in their union suits and at a standstill again. 

Arthur takes the chance and lays down first, tugging his blanket over his legs then reaching over for his satchel, pulling out his journal and pen. 

Charles climbs in carefully next to him, only brushing against him once. 

“You write a lot in that thing.”

“Some times more than other times.”

“That’s vague.”

“Mm,” Arthur turns onto his stomach and flips open the journal, scratching at his beard. 

“What do you write about?”

“Whatever,” Arthur says lightly, teasing now just for the levity. 

They need it. 

Charles huffs and turns onto his stomach as well, but doesn’t try to look, just pillows his head on his crossed arms and looks up at Arthur sleepily. 

“C’mon,” Arthur mutters and nudges the younger man with his elbow, “Sleep.”

“I will,” Charles says then goes quiet and Arthur’s fine with that being the end of it, “Kinda still… Antsy.”

“Mm?” Arthur asks and continues writing. 

“Of you all… For a moment, I had to consider, if staying here was worth it.”

The nib of his pen skips across the paper and leaves a dark line when he stills in surprise. 

“Is this another of them ‘admissions’,” Arthur murmurs, “But not ‘advances’?”

“Maybe.”

Arthur sighs and rubs at his face, closing his journal with the pen inside and shoving it away. 

He lays on his side facing Charles in the dim light, who studies him, glancing at the journal. 

“Was I distracting you?”

“You always are.”

Charles inhales a bit sharper than before and drops his gaze to the ground outside their bedrolls. 

“Now _that_ … That is an advance,” Arthur says quietly, “If you’d like it to be.”

“Maybe.”

\--

They share a tent for a week before anything happens. 

Then Arthur wakes up in the pitch-dark to feel Charles pressed against him-

Hard. 

Their legs tangled together and Arthur takes a moment to appreciate the sheer strength in the thighs his own is trapped between before moving to pull away, not wanting Charles to wake up and think he was-

“Wait,” Charles whispers and Arthur freezes. 

“Ah… Sorry.”

“I did this,” Charles says, barely above a breath. 

“Hm?”

“I… I moved so you…” Charles swallows loud enough that Arthur can hear and Arthur reaches out, in the dark, finds Charles’ shoulder.

Arm.

Wrist.

Hand.

Brings it to his mouth and presses the scarred knuckles to his lips. 

Hears Charles’ sharp inhale. 

“S’fine, with me,” Arthur murmurs, “Plenty comfortable.”

“I’ve never-”

“You told me-”

“ _Anything_ , Arthur,” Charles says quietly, “Alright?”

“... Alright.”

“Just… Let me go slow,” Charles whispers. 

“That’s fine by me,” Arthur hums and lays his head back down on his folded arm, “Slow’s fine- Good, even.”

Charles shifts and his hardness brushes Arthur’s thigh and the younger man’s inhale is shaky. 

“How long you been like this?”

“I don’t know,” Charles says, bit thin, “I… You were just shifting, at first, against me. It felt good.”

“Yeah?”

“Then you turned and I… I took the chance.”

“Glad for it,” Arthur says slowly, “If you are.”

Charles’ face is a bit clearer now that his eyes have adjusted and the younger man’s expression is pinched. 

“Why haven’t you…?”

“Didn’t trust anyone.”

“... Only men you barely know.”

“One-” Charles cuts himself off when his hips rock against Arthur’s thigh again, “Just one man.”

“Shit… Charles,” Arthur whispers and presses a little closer, “Can I touch you?”

“Where?”

“Hip?” Arthur asks and tentatively settles his hand there, holding Charles’ hand to his cheek with his other, “Maybe… Do this?”

And he pulls firmly on Charles’ hip, guides the younger man through a smooth, rolling motion. 

“Yeah,” Charles whispers, “Yes.”

“Like that?”

“Yes,” Charles says and his other hand comes up to grip Arthur’s shoulder, “... More?”

“Yeah? Not too fast?”

“Too fast would be you touching my- This is fine, this is _good_ , please.”

“You don’t gotta beg,” Arthur whispers and feels his face heating, “Just tell me what you want me to do.”

“Do that again,” Charles murmurs then hisses quietly when Arthur does and his cock grinds up the older man’s thigh, _“Shit.”_

“Again?”

“Yeah,” Charles leans in and his forehead rests against Arthur’s. 

He can feel just how stuttered Charles’ breathing is against his lips and he wants to go _fast_. 

He wants to shove Charles back and straddle the younger man’s thighs and kiss until they’re both panting and pull out their cocks and feel that soft heat against his own, inside him-

“Arthur,” Charles says through gritted teeth and his hips jerk forward. 

“Close?”

“Sorry.”

“Can I touch myself?” Arthur asks thinly, “Is that too fast?”

“No… Wish I could see though,” Charles whispers then makes a broken noise when Arthur’s thigh shifts and rubs against him. 

Charles starts a rhythm of rocking his hips, firmer and faster as Arthur shifts to prop himself up, holding the younger man’s hand against the ground. 

Lets go of Charles’ hip to shove open the buttons of his union suit and pull himself out. 

“Fuck,” Arthur whispers, “Charles.”

“... Can I?”

“What?”

“Can I touch you?” 

“That’s fast,” Arthur says weakly when his cock twitches and he leans down until he feels Charles’ shuddering breath on his mouth again, “If _I_ can I kiss _you_.”

Charles lifts up instead of answering and brushes their lips together. 

Arthur groans softly and lowers himself into it, pressing down with his thigh between Charles’ legs as warm, rough fingers wrap around him. 

“Good,” Arthur whispers shakily when Charles’ thumb tugs back his foreskin, “Shit, Charles.”

“Have you thought about this?” Charles asks, turning his face away for a moment. 

“Not.. Not like _this_ , exactly,” Arthur busies himself with leaving kisses up Charles’ jaw, down the younger’s neck. 

Charles’ hand yanks out of his, moves to grip at Arthur’s hair, biting down on a small sound, hips rocking up. 

“C’mon,” Arthur whispers against the corded muscle, bites light enough he won’t leave a mark, but hard enough Charles will feel it, “Come.”

“Arth-” Charles’ fingers tug at his hair and the younger man’s hips rut against his thigh, his hand faltering around Arthur’s cock. 

“Alright if- If-? _Fuck,”_ Arthur groans and it’s too loud and Charles tenses under him, muffling another weak sound as Arthur feels the hot dampness seeping through the fabric, “Gonna-”

Charles’ fingers squeeze around him, then stroke up his cock firmly, quickly. 

Arthur presses his face into Charles’ neck harder and breathes out shakily, fucking into the younger man’s fist. 

Until he spills, hastily moving a hand under Charles’ to try and spare the younger man’s union suit from any further damage. 

**Author's Note:**

> [twitter](https://www.twitter.com/gwennolmarie)   
>  [horny twitter](https://www.twitter.com/swampslip)   
>  [tumblr](https://providentialeyes.tumblr.com)


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